


Recipe for Heartache

by niffizzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Pancakes, Post-Hogwarts, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 09:44:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15838704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffizzle/pseuds/niffizzle
Summary: On an early day in August a few years after the war, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger run into each other at the Three Broomsticks, which soon leads to the start of a strictly casual, no strings attached, summer fling.  The only condition?  At the end of the month, it would all be over.  But will saying goodbye really be that easy to do?





	1. Away with the Summer Breeze

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Strictly Dramione's Summer Loving - Back to Hogwarts Summer Writing Fest
> 
> First of all, a thank you to the admins of Strictly Dramione for hosting this fest and also to all the other writers who participated. And of course, a HUGEEEE thank you to LightofEvolution who tolerated my constant indecisiveness throughout this fest and still provided me with feedback even though I was still undecided on a topic ten days before this fic was due. She also has a fic for this fest called School's Not Out For Summer that you should check out when you have the chance :)
> 
> Last and most certainly least, one big resounding lack of thank you to Verizon for being the world's worst internet provider and deciding to shut down the day this piece was due, forcing me to make all my final changes and uploads using my cellular data and mobile hotspot. You the real MUP (Most Unhelpful Player), Verizon!

Draco drew in a deep breath, keeping his eyes closed just a few more minutes, his witch still fast asleep, safely wrapped in his arms. The fresh summer breeze flowed through the window of his family’s lake house, causing her hair to tickle his nose. He smiled at the sensation and pulled her in even closer, eliminating what little gap there was between them to begin with.

He was going to miss this. Miss all of this. The sheer simplicity of waking up with absolutely no cares in the world, their temporary oasis away from the outside world. But he knew that tomorrow morning, it would be gone -- all of it. So for one last time, he savoured the feel of her angel soft skin against his, committing to memory the way she gently hummed whenever his fingers grazed over her thigh.

“ _Draco,_ ” she mewled as he pulled back a portion of her hair and pressed his lips against the sensitive part of her neck.

The electrifying way his heart warmed whenever she said his name confirmed just how deeply he had fallen for her in that short month. It was better than any other feeling in the entire world. Better than flying his broom around the Quidditch pitch on a perfect spring afternoon. Better than defeating his father in an hour long Wizard’s Chess match. And even better than the intoxicating smell of a Potion’s lab with several cauldrons filled with Amortentia -- because right now, he had the real thing.

But only for one more day.

When he had run into her at Hogsmeade that fated evening, he had never imagined it would end like this. He had just finished his interview with McGonagall at Hogwarts and was spending the night at the Three Broomsticks before returning to his flat in London when he had spotted her across the crowded, smoky pub. He had the barmaid send her over a Butterbeer, only intending for it to be a casual olive branch with no need for further action, but she took it as an opportunity to come over and start a conversation. They chatted about their lives since the war, how he had spent the past several years studying under a Potions Master in France, slowly reestablishing his life far away from the judgment of Wizarding Britain, while she had returned to Hogwarts, completed her N.E.W.T.s, and become a certified Healer. The conversation flowed, as did the Butterbeer, and the next thing he knew, his own reservation at the inn went unused.

When he awoke the following morning, the space beside him was cold and empty. At first, he was fearful that she had run away as soon as she recognised the man she had woken up next to, but then he noticed the scrap of parchment on the nightstand with her address on it.

Three days later, he showed up at her door with a bottle of wine and devious intentions, and they had hardly spent a night apart since.

But even from the beginning, she had made her position clear. This wasn’t anything serious -- just pure, casual fun. A way to get over their past by getting under each other instead.

At the time, Draco had more than willingly agreed. He had only recently returned to the UK, and he had just secured a job that would finally set his life back on a normal track here in his home country. He refused to get involved in something that would risk derailing from that course. After all, this was Hermione Granger he was talking about, so there wasn’t any chance in _that_ happening.

And yet here he was, completely smitten with the witch he had spent half his life belittling.

She shifted in bed and slowly stretched her arms over her head, her joints cracking softly as they fully extended. “We need to get up,” she said, her voice still a bit groggy.

“Absolutely not,” he challenged, tightening his grip around her waist. “This is our last morning together so I vote we stay in bed all day.”

He lined her shoulder with several short kisses, prompting more soft hums to escape from behind her lips with every new connection. He found his favourite spot at the base of her neck and started to suck as his hand left her waist and started to travel down to the promised folds between her legs. Two fingers traced over her already slick slit, her body not wasting any time.

Her back arched into his chest at his unexpected but welcomed touch, starting their morning the best way he knew how.

“Don’t you dare tell me that you’d rather we get out of bed,” he growled in her ear as he slipped his fingers inside.

Hermione’s head knocked back, her mouth falling open as he pushed them in further. “I want --” she gasped, but her words fell silent when his thumb made its way to her clit.

“Is _this_ what you wanted?”

She attempted to say something, but her breath caught short again, unable to complete the thought as his ministrations continued.

“What’s that, love?” he said, a small smirk starting to form across his lips, relishing the way she always got lost in his touch. “I couldn’t quite understand you.”

She let out a deep moan, but not before she uttered, “ _Pancakes._ ”

Draco froze, his fingers still deep inside her. “ _Pancakes?”_ he asked in disbelief. When he felt her head nod up and down, he removed himself from within her and sat up. _“_ I’m trying to make you orgasm, yet you want _pancakes?”_

Hermione craned her head back to look up at him, her cheeks having turned rosy. “What can I say? You make really good pancakes.”

Draco would be mad, but dammit, there was something too cute about the way she stared up at him with those irresistible brown eyes. With a look like that, she might as well have him under the Imperius Curse.

He threw the sheets off from over him and located his boxers on the ground and tugged them on, shaking his head back and forth with a small smile across his lips. “All this time I thought you were using me for sex when really you just wanted to get your hands on my pancakes!”

Hermione stretched out across the length of the bed so that her bare stomach lied flat against the mattress as she rested her cheek against the back of her hand. “They’re even better than Lisa’s.”

Draco chuckled warmly. “I take that as a massive compliment.”

He bent down and gave her a quick kiss before he grabbed his wand off the dresser and headed into the kitchen. After washing his hands, he swished his wand and summoned the necessary ingredients; the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt came out of the cabinet, while the eggs, milk, and butter flew out from within the refrigerator. There was only one witch in the entire world that he would cook for, and she was it.

He smiled to himself, remembering when she had initially told him about her former roommate. It was about two and a half weeks ago, the first time they had had dinner together. It hadn’t been a planned event -- more of an accident really -- but that night ended up being a crucial turning point for him.

He had Apparated to her place, anticipating that it would just be like any other evening. First they would split a bottle of wine and then they would go into her bedroom where the night would really begin. But when he arrived that evening, Hermione was still in her kitchen making dinner.

“Let’s make this clear,” she said, the second he stepped foot inside the room. “I am not cooking you dinner. You are early for sex, and you can have some if you’re hungry.”

Draco stepped closer and looked over her shoulder to peek inside the pot on the cooker. “What in Merlin’s name is that monstrosity?” he asked, looking down at the unusual mixture of elbow pasta with an assortment of shredded cheese.

“Macaroni cheese,” she answered while stirring the contents with a wooden spoon.

“And you intend on eating _that_ for dinner?”

Hermione reddened at his remark. “I’m not a very good cook, but my roommate during Healer training was American, and she taught me a few easy meals so I wouldn’t starve to death. It’s actually not bad if you’d like to venture a taste once it’s done.”

“There aren’t enough Galleons in Gringotts for me to try that.”

And yet somehow, despite those words, not thirty minutes later, he was on the couch with Hermione rested in his lap, his second bowl of macaroni cheese in his hands. There may not be enough Galleons, but Hermione’s persuasive skills turned out to be more potent.

“I hate you for introducing this to me,” he said, taking another bite from the dish. “Who knew pasta covered with melted cheese could be so addicting?”

She laughed. “Leave it to the Americans!” She then set her empty bowl on the table and started to get up. “Well, I better go grab the bottle of --”

“Not yet,” he interrupted, instinctively pulling at the back of her shirt so she couldn’t get up any further. “I’m way too full at the moment to even consider drinking anything.”

Hermione looked back at him curiously, apparently having expected them to jump right back into their typical routine now that dinner was over. “Then what do you suggest we do while we wait?”

“You know, we could actually talk for once.”

Hermione snorted. “About what exactly?”

Draco shrugged. “You could tell me more about that American roommate of yours for starters.”

“Lisa?” Hermione laughed again. “Oh, where do I even begin?”

They spent the rest of the evening chatting, and by the end of the night, they had gone through two bottles of wine but had never made it to her bedroom. When he awoke the next morning, she was still nestled in his lap, a soft snore coming out of her. He smiled at the sight of her peaceful state as he ran his fingers through her hair, careful not to disturb her slumber.

It was at that moment that Draco realised that perhaps there was more to this than just casual, albeit fantastic, sex.

And the even stranger thing was that he didn’t hate that prospect.

He strategically removed himself from under her and rested her head on the couch cushion before tip-toeing his way to the kitchen. He found her box of recipes on the counter and decided to surprise her with breakfast. He flipped through the cards until he found something that looked simple enough but would still impress her.

Draco now stared down at that very same card, a recipe he had since memorised. Ever since he had made her breakfast that morning, she insisted on his pancakes whenever they spent the night together. He may vocally complain about it, but he was secretly rather proud of the fact that he had managed to at least partially win her over with such a simple gesture.

It was odd to think that this would be his last time cooking breakfast for her. His heart ached at the unwelcome reminder of their impending deadline. But as discussed and mutually agreed upon, when the month ended, so were they, and at midnight, it would be September 1st.

For the past two weeks, he had gone back and forth on whether or not he would bring up the possibility of extending their self-imposed expiration date. He highly doubted he was alone in his feelings. They had grown far too comfortable with each other over the course of the past month for it to still be considered “just pure, casual fun.”

But he had agreed to the deadline for a reason -- a bitter reality that he constantly had to remind himself. McGonagall was putting a lot of faith in him by hiring him as the new Potions professor this upcoming term. They both knew that parents and press alike would not react kindly to the controversial staffing choice, which is why they had decided to keep it secret. Draco hadn’t told anyone about his new position -- not even Hermione. This was his opportunity to reestablish himself, and he couldn’t take any risks.

So as much as it pained him to admit, it was for the best that things with Hermione ended now. He had to be completely dedicated to his professorship, and that would be quite difficult if his mind became preoccupied with a long-distance romance. Maybe he could stash her away in his luggage and take her with him to Hogwarts. That would solve everything.

Draco reached into the cupboard and retrieved the mixing bowl, sighing in the process. If only the solution was that simple.

He quickly suppressed his gloom and forced himself to return his focus to the ingredients in front of him. Wistful contemplation of what could have been was fruitless.

They still had one more day, and he had every intention to make it count.


	2. For Batter or For Worse

Hermione bit down on her lower lip as she watched Draco make his way to the kitchen, thoroughly enjoying the view as he walked away. The morning sun shone through the window and hit his back muscles just right, instantly making Hermione reconsider her insistence on breakfast and instead pull him right back into bed and finish what he had started. It was incredibly tempting, but knowing them, they wouldn’t make it past noon before he had her screaming out his name, so all things considered, a slight delay for pancakes really wasn’t too terrible.

When he turned the corner and disappeared out of sight, Hermione rolled onto her back and sighed dreamily up at the ceiling. Gods, she was a lucky witch. No other wizard had ever made her feel even half as satisfied as he continued to do time and time again. She closed her eyes, imagining the perfect way he had thrust into her the night before, sparking every nerve in her system to ignite with passion, her fingernails clawing into the mattress as she felt wave after wave ripple through her body.

To say it had been an incredible month would be an understatement.

Although, to be fair, while Draco did admittedly play a key role in that, he wasn’t the only factor.

Being a Healer at St. Mungo’s had been remarkably rewarding, and she would have been perfectly content continuing her career at the hospital, but all that changed when she received an owl from McGonagall asking if she’d be interested in the newly vacant matron position. Up until then, Hermione had never considered it an actual possibility -- primarily because she just assumed Madam Pomfrey would hold that title for generations of students to come -- but the moment Hermione finished reading the letter, she practically squealed in excitement. Hogwarts would forever be a second home to her, and now she had the opportunity to combine her love of Healing with her love of the institution she had fought an entire war to defend her right to proudly attend.

The night before her interview, Hermione had been extremely anxious. McGonagall had assured her that the position was essentially hers, yet Hermione still couldn’t shake the nervous pixies fluttering in her stomach. So after failing miserably at her attempt to fall asleep early, she decided to venture downstairs to the pub portion of the Three Broomsticks where she was staying and have a casual drink to calm her jitters before trying again.

It was there that she had spotted Draco. It had been years since she had seen him last, but she would forever be able to recognise him immediately. With hair like that, it was hard not to. It also didn’t hurt that he somehow looked even better than she remembered.

She decided to ignore him at first, opting to stick to her original mission and then return to bed, but a few minutes later, a Butterbeer appeared before her, and when she looked up and saw him raising his own glass to cheers her from the other side of the pub, she gave him a soft smile and gladly reciprocated. The Draco Malfoy she knew at Hogwarts would never have even looked in her direction, let alone buy her a drink and cheers her as his equal, but apparently his looks weren’t the only thing that had matured over the past few years.

After taking a sip, she decided it was worth going over and talking to him -- at least to say thank you. Besides, if she was going to be returning to Hogwarts in the morning, she might as well do so having resolved that part of her past. It also wouldn’t hurt to talk about something -- _anything_ \-- that would get her mind off the interview.

The last thing she expected to do that night was sleep with him. But it turned out to be an excellent way of appeasing those pesky pixies -- and surprisingly fun. So before she left, she made an impulse decision to leave him her address. It was rational enough. The sex was more than satisfactory, so why not continue a good thing?

And this… _thing…_ that had transpired between them the past few weeks had certainly developed into more than just a good thing. It was amazing. Brilliant. Spectacular. Sometimes even edging on mind-blowing. Everything a summer fling should be.

But if she was honest, she had long since started to question if she really did want it to stay temporary.

At the beginning, she had been adamant that she didn’t want anything serious, only giving them until the end of the month. That way, it would be a nice, clean break when she started the job at Hogwarts. After all, their casual hook-up status couldn’t continue once she was off in Scotland for the next ten months.

Never in her wildest imagination would she have predicted that her fondness towards the wizard would cause her to reconsider that deadline.

She had tried to fight it -- she really had -- swearing to herself that she didn’t truly like him and that she was actually stuck in some twisted erotic haze that was warping her perception of him. When she had suggested this end of summer getaway, part of her had secretly hoped that a week of just the two of them spending every waking moment together would help her snap out of it and remind her what the real Malfoy was like, but it had completely backfired. The real Malfoy was exactly who she presently perceived him to be, and after a perfect week of relaxing by the lake, lounging around the house, and, of course, tons of hot sex, she had only fallen further victim to her perpetually growing feelings towards him.

She knocked her head back against the mattress and groaned. This wasn’t what her mind should be focused on the day before term began! She should be over-the-moon excited to be starting a new position, but instead, she was stuck sulking over an impending breakup with someone she wasn’t even dating!

And unfortunately, the bleak reality was that ultimately, it hardly made a difference how she felt about him. Regardless of whether or not she wanted to continue being with Draco, the fact of the matter remained that tomorrow morning, they’d be hundreds of miles away from each other.

She drew in a deep breath through her nose, intending to release a heavy sigh, but then she caught the smell of the pancakes wafting in the air. A soft hum escaped her lips instead, and her worries instantly faded away. Tomorrow was bound to be an emotional disaster, but for today, she still had Draco -- and his delicious pancakes.

Hermione pushed herself off the bed and after located her under garments and stealing one of his button-down shirts, she followed his path into the kitchen where she found him standing in front of the cooker, one hand on the handle of the fry-pan, the other flipping a pancake over with a spatula. The soft sizzling echoed in the otherwise quiet kitchen, and Draco was so focused on the cooking, he didn’t seem to notice her approach. He startled slightly when she wrapped her arms around his bare torso but soon relaxed under her warm embrace.

He looked back at her from over his shoulder and smiled. “You know I love it when you wear my shirts,” he said with an appreciative grin before returning his attention to the fry-pan, the pancakes just barely starting to turn golden. “They should be done any minute now.”

“Good, because I’m starving.” She popped up on her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and then rested her head against his shoulder blade. “I swear I’m not leaving tonight until you tell me what your secret to such good pancakes is,” she commented, dipping a finger into the raw batter and taking a lick. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had a job to report to, she wouldn’t be kidding. Of course, his pancake recipe really wasn’t the reason why.

Draco chuckled. “As I’m sure you won’t find hard to believe, I’m rather good at keeping secrets, even from you, so I guess that means you’re stuck here.”

Even though she wouldn’t be entirely opposed, Hermione still pulled herself away and looked up at him in fake offence, at which he merely laughed. Her heart soared at the sight of his genuine smile, his calming grey eyes turned into crescents as he peered down at her with amusement.

Hermione scooped up another finger full of batter and playfully dropped a generous dollop on his nose. “Well, that’s not very considerate! Not even as a parting gift?”

Draco’s smile quickly shifted into a smirk as he wiped the batter off with two fingers and streaked it across her cheekbone. “Trust me when I say that I can come up with a _much_ more appropriate parting gift.”

“Oh, really?” she continued to tease through her quickly accelerating heartbeat. Apparently the organ was responsive to everything little thing that he did. “Is that a promise?” His attention was so focused on her, he was completely oblivious to her hand slowly reaching back to the counter.

Draco started to gnaw on his lower lip. “It’s most _certainly_ a promise.”

“Good,” Hermione said with a taunting smile. “Then it shouldn’t make a difference when I do _this.”_

She dipped all five fingers into the batter bowl and flicked it in his direction, little specks of tan scattering across his face.

Hermione clapped her clean hand over her mouth to obscure her wide grin as Draco ran his hands over his cheeks and then looked down at his palms to examine the damage. “You _witch!_ ” he jokingly jeered, dipping his own hand into the batter and doing the same.

Fortunately for Hermione, her impulses were fast enough so that she could duck without getting hit by his initial attack, but _unfortunately_ for Hermione, he managed to wrap his arms around her, locking her in place.

“Let me go, Draco!” she said through a fit of giggles, half-heartedly attempting to wiggle herself free.

“Not so fast, Granger,” he mocked, his youthful enjoyment of the game she had initiated apparent in his light-hearted tone. “If you can’t take it, then you shouldn’t start it in the first place!” He then grabbed a handful of batter and ran his palm across the length of her face, eliciting a short squeal from her.

“I can take -- _whatever_ \-- you give me,” she forced out through her laughter as she moved her body side to side in an attempt escape his clasp.

Draco tightened his grip around her, his strong arms proving rather difficult to wrestle out of, but she finally got the upper hand when, somehow, she managed to get one arm free enough so that she could dip her hand back into the bowl and then rustle her batter covered hand through his hair.

Immediately, Draco dropped his hold. “Too far!” he cried when he threaded his fingers through his hair and detected the thick paste. “You’ll pay for that one!”

He picked up the batter bowl and chased Hermione out of the kitchen and through the corridors, both of them with wide smiles plastered across their faces as he flung the mixture in her direction, neither one caring what else in the lake house got hit in the crossfire. It was a terribly immature game for two adults to play, but Hermione couldn’t care less. She and Draco were enjoying themselves, and that was all that mattered.

They raced through the house, their laughter filling every room they entered, even after Draco had her backed into the corner of the sitting room.

“You’re mine now, Granger,” he growled with a coy smile.

Hermione made one final feeble attempt to escape, but it proved unsurprisingly futile. She let out a short, high-pitched yelp as he clamped both arms around her waist, lifting her up in the air so she had no chance of getting away this time, but he needn’t worry. Truth was, she really was his.

He deposited Hermione on the couch and wasted no time settling himself over her, his smug, victorious expression just inches above her. “Don’t you ever trying getting away from me again,” he said before leaning in and capturing her with his lips.

She had kissed him so many times this summer, it would be impossible to keep count anymore, but she could swear on Godric Gryffindor’s grave that there was something different about this one. The passion in their kisses had often been there, but it was even more apparent this time. His lips were pressed so hard that she feared they might actually leave a bruise, and his hands were gripping onto the button down as if he was afraid that if he let go, she might actually disappear on him.

And yet, despite all this, he still didn’t feel close enough. Hermione’s fingers gripped onto his hair, and pulled him in closer, not even caring about the traces of batter that still remained. Because when she was with Draco, everything else in the world seemed to fade away.

Except for the smell of burning pancakes.

She stilled from underneath him, and within a few seconds, Draco paused as well, staring down at her confusedly until his nose wrinkled as he seemed to catch on.

“Your stupid pancakes are cockblocking me again,” he hissed, begrudgingly getting to his feet.

“Not my fault you didn't turn off the cooker!”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Remind me again who started this whole batter battle?”

“Oh, hush, hush!” she dismissed. “Just go turn it off before we burn the house down!”

“Fine,” he surrendered, “but don’t you dare move before I come back. You and I are only getting started.”

With a smirk and a wink, he headed back to the kitchen, Hermione watching him leave from over the back of the couch.

Gods, she really didn’t want to lose him.

Maybe there was still a way to make this work?

She knew she and McGonagall had given their word to each not to tell anyone outside of the former Order members about her hiring at Hogwarts, but surely it wouldn’t be a big deal if she finally told Draco, too. After all, in a little under forty-eight hours, it was bound to be plastered all over the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ once word got out that she was seated at the High Table at the Start-of-Term Feast.

But even if she told him, it wouldn’t change the fact that Hogwarts was nearly five hundred miles away from London, and she had a responsibility to the students and the school to tend to her job appropriately. Being Head Matron meant being almost constantly on call, so weekends at Hogsmeade weren’t an option, and she seriously doubted Draco would be willing to return to the scene of so many of his crimes just for a shag -- no matter how good it was.

At this point, it would just make the most sense to let this die its self-prescribed death and then hope for a continuation once the Christmas holiday rolled around and she had a few days off -- that is if he was still single by then.

Hermione didn’t even want to consider that possibility.

~*~*~

The late summer sun had already started its descent when Hermione stood in front of the Malfoy family lake house, all of her belongings for the school year hidden in a deceptively small weekend bag thanks to an Undetectable Extension Charm. Technically speaking, she and Malfoy still had several more hours before their month was officially over, but as much as Hermione wanted to stay until the clock struck midnight and their time together disappeared like the end of a fairy godmother’s wish, she needed to get to Hogwarts and at least partially settle in before the students arrived tomorrow evening. The professors may have that night for last minute preparations, but her job started the second students stepped foot on the property.

“Well,” Draco said, shoving his hands into his trousers pockets and giving his shoulders a shrug. “I guess this is it.”

Hermione gave him a tight-lipped smile. What exactly was she supposed to say? It’s been real? Thanks for the sex? Please don’t tell me this is really the end?

There was a whole world of things she wished she’d just come out and confess, but all she could muster was, “Yep.”

They remained standing there in uncomfortable silence, apparently neither one of them certain what form of salutation this situation called for. There wasn’t exactly a book called _What to Do When You Like Someone, but You Already Agreed to End It and Now are Moving Five Hundred Miles Away._

Hermione started to panic, the lack of action on either end starting to make her anxious, and ultimately decided to extend her hand for him to shake -- a move she instantly regretted.

A handshake? _A handshake?_ They’d had sex on nearly every flat surface in that house, and she was saying goodbye with a  _handshake?_

Draco graciously enough accepted, but Hermione was so mortified by the whole occurrence, she quickly drew her hand away and picked up her weekend bag.

“Okay, well, um, goodbye then.”

She turned from him and walked towards the edge of their property and out of their Anti-Apparition ward. Gods, could she have ended their summer on any more of an awkward note? Now that was going to be his last memory of her! Normally, she would go back and try to fix her mistake, but she didn’t trust herself not to somehow botch it up even worse.

Well, there went any dream of anything happening over the Christmas holiday!

But then she heard the sound of the loose pavement under his feet, Draco rapidly approaching from behind. Before she could register much more, he had already pulled her back and dragged her into his embrace, capturing her lips with one final kiss.

Hermione clamped her eyes shut as he pressed his lips to hers, feeling the warmth of their connection spread like wildfire down to her toes. There he was again, proving just how capable he was of vanishing every thought and worry from her mind with something so simple, yet so intense and so undeniably perfect.

He slowly pulled away but left his forehead rested on hers. “Didn’t feel right for you to leave without a goodbye kiss,” he said with that irresistible smirk of his that had the power to make her crumble at his feet. Luckily, her knees proved strong enough to prevent any more embarrassing moments.

He stood up properly and gave her a curt nod. “Well, I, uh, hope to see you around.”

A small blushing smile formed at the edges of her lips. “Me too.”

Perhaps there was still hope for the Christmas holiday -- or maybe even sooner. Once the news broke about her return to Hogwarts, she could send him a letter explaining why she hadn’t told him and invite him up for a weekend. It wouldn’t be the same as having him around every minute of the day like she really wanted, but at least it would be something.


	3. The Gloom of September

Draco brushed his index finger over his lower lip as he watched longingly at Hermione’s distancing figure. He inhaled a deep breath when she reached the edge of his family’s property, mentally preparing himself for what he knew would come next. And then, just like that, she was gone.

It was over.

The pebbled stones crunched under his feet as he slowly walked back to the house, softly smiling to himself despite the emptiness that was starting to burrow itself into his heart. At least it had been a quality day. They never managed to have those pancakes she had initially been so set on, the notion far escaping her mind once he returned from the kitchen and dragged her into the shower where they did far more than just wash the batter off. But while he’d never forget the way her back arched against those white tiled walls or the feel of her wet body pressed up against his as she cried out his name one final time, that wasn’t even close to what he’d miss the most.

He’d miss her sharp tongue and how she’d have an opinion about anything and everything. He’d miss her finding it absolutely necessary to correct even his slightest grammatical error, even if he had purposefully made it just to enjoy her doing so. He’d miss them lying in bed together and not saying a single word, silently acknowledging that each other’s presence was enough.

He’d miss every piece of it -- all those small moments that seemed so insignificant on the surface but were the reason he smiled the brightest.

Most of all, he’d miss her.

And if that final kiss was any indication, he was fairly certain she was going to miss him as well.

For a brief moment, he considered going back on this whole Hogwarts professorship thing and chasing after her -- wherever it is she just went -- and telling her that leaving was a mistake, but that foolish thought quickly dissipated. This job was his ticket back into the good graces of British wizarding society, and he was actually looking forward to sharing what he had learned in Paris with a new generation of students. So as much as he wanted to be with Hermione, he had to accept reality and make peace with the fact that he had made the decision to prioritise his career instead.

It may not be his ideal situation, but he had been preparing himself for this moment ever since he had realised that he had actually grown to like her. He had savoured every day that he had been able to call that witch his, and he refused to now ruin those precious memories by mourning that there wouldn't be any new ones to add to his collection. He may not be able to physically take her with him to Hogwarts, but she’d always have a place in his heart.

As he walked down the corridor, he ran his fingers along the painting lined walls, the framed pictures now adorned with stray splashes of batter. Draco chuckled to himself, already reminiscing about the events of earlier that day. If he was lucky, the sound of her infectious laughter would continue to echo in his mind for the next month, giving him a small piece of her to hold onto as he transitioned into his new job, his new home, his new life.

It may not be as good as the real thing, but at least it was something.

He should probably head to Hogwarts soon, McGonagall almost certainly already awaiting his arrival, but he wanted a few more minutes to soak in the remnants of her presence. Reminders of her were everywhere. The couch she used to read on. The flowers she had picked from the surrounding forest. The vase she had shattered into a million pieces after accidentally knocking it over and then apologised profusely about even though she had already reassembled it like new.

What hit him the hardest, though, was reentering the kitchen, their mess from earlier left untouched, her pancake recipe card still laying out on the counter. They hadn’t bothered to leave the bedroom after finishing their shower, meals no longer seeming important when they could lazily lie in bed instead, so he hadn’t made it back there until now. He was tempted to leave it as is, keep it as yet another reminder of their week together at the lake, but his father would never let him step foot in that house again if Draco didn’t leave it completely spotless. Not that Draco ever intended on coming back there -- he’d much rather his final memories of the place be of her there with him.

The sun was now starting to disappear beyond the horizon, and he really couldn’t delay leaving any longer. Students would be arriving in less than twenty-four hours, so it was time he bid farewell to summer and let the whole experience remain a series of happy memories for him to resort to when the stress of being a first year professor started to get to him.

He tucked the recipe card into his pocket and then drew his wand out of his pocket, slowly waving it through the kitchen and the rest of the house, until just like that, it was as if he and Hermione had never even stepped foot in there.

~*~*~

Draco scanned his eyes over every inch of the Entrance Hall, a chill going straight down his back. Even though he had previously returned to the castle for his interview, it still felt strange being back inside those walls. It would take a lot of getting used to, but given time, the new memories would slowly but surely replace the old ones.

He continued to wait patiently, and soon enough, he heard the echoes of footsteps travelling in his direction and the Headmistress came into sight, wearing essentially the same emerald robes he remembered from his first year.

“I apologise for the delay,” McGonagall remarked once she was reasonably close enough. “I had just finished showing another faculty member her living quarters when Filch told me you had arrived. But right this way, and I’ll take you to your chambers and then leave you with the key to your classroom so you can get settled.”

She led Draco up a vaguely familiar staircase and then turned down a corridor he had seldom frequented during his tenure at the school, stopping in front of the third door on the left. When he stepped inside, he looked around at the modest accommodations. The room was practically a quarter of the size of his flat in London, but he hadn’t been expecting much. At least there was a separate kitchen, sitting area, and bedroom. He placed his trunk on top of the Hogwarts provided kitchen table and unlatched the top.

“I suggest it wise to tend to your personal chambers later seeing as you have an entire classroom that requires your attention before classes begin on Monday,” the Headmistress more commanded than suggested like she so claimed. She paced towards him and handed him two keys. “The larger one will open the Potions classroom. I trust that you’ll be able to figure out how to get down there yourself?”

Draco nodded.  He couldn't guarantee that there wouldn't be at least a few snags along his way, provided all the changing staircases and his memory of their movement schedule a bit fuzzy, but even fifty years away from the castle could affect his memory so badly that he'd completely forget how to get there. 

“Oh, and one more thing. There will be a staff meeting tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp. And I do not permit tardiness under any circumstances, even from professors,” she advised as she started to make her way out the door but then stopped when she reached the frame to look back at him and give him a subtle nod of approval. “It’s a pleasure to have you on staff, Mr Malfoy.”

Draco returned the favour. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

After only a slight few mishaps finding his way downstairs, Draco spent the next few hours in the dungeons, assessing his new classroom and decorating it so that it was his own. Most of the simple stuff like organising the tables into groups of four and hanging the informational posters of which cauldrons to use for what potions and charts detailing the proper cutting techniques were easy enough to do with the swish of his wand, but other tasks he preferred to do himself. He spent nearly two hours alone rearranging his personal reference library in his office, and taking inventory of the ingredients was taking infinitely longer than he anticipated, but both of those tasks were absolutely necessary. One could hardly expect a Potions professor to be successful if he didn’t have a clear idea of what he was doing and what resources he had to do it with!

Draco was in the middle of counting how many bat spleens were in the stock cupboard when he heard the distant ringing of the midnight bells, letting him know that it was officially September 1st.

August was over.

The heartache he had been avoiding since the moment Hermione had left flooded his system, infiltrating every fibre of his being. Suddenly, his heart turned heavy, his stomach crashed down to his feet, and his brain refused to do any more work. He tried to fight it, remind himself that there was no use being sad about a decision that had already been made, but his heart had taken control, and it became painfully evident that he wasn’t going to get anything else accomplished that evening.

Admitting defeat, Draco trudged his way up the stairs to his quarters and closed the door behind him with a frustrated groan. He had been foolish to believe that moving on would be as easy as letting his memories of her remain tokens of previous affection that he kept close to his heart. The mere memory of her wasn’t enough; it hadn’t even been six hours, and he already desperately missed the real thing.

He looked around at the dull room. Maybe he’d feel better if he made this place feel a bit more like home. Then he might stand a chance of reverting his focus back to work like he had intended.

He flicked his wand and the contents of his trunk came flying out, the room that had been barren only minutes prior now filled with his belongings. Hanging on the wall was his Certificate of Extraordinary Excellence from his apprenticeship with the Parisian Potions Master. Draped at the foot of his bed was the old worn blanket that had been his absolute favourite for as long as he could remember. Off in the corner was his broomstick, positively itching to be used again on a Quidditch Pitch.

And yet, the room still felt empty, and he knew exactly what -- or rather, who -- was missing.

He imagined her in that room with him, and even just the thought of that made him feel better. Maybe she could visit on weekends. Merlin knew the witch wouldn’t be opposed to returning to the school. She probably wouldn’t even mind helping him with his lesson plans. Or grading students’ exams. Or researching things to add to the curriculum. _Or_ his unlimited access to the restricted section. That last one alone would likely convince her!

_This could work._

Not wasting a single second more, he used a few quick Summoning Charms so that a roll of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell flew into his hands and then pulled out the pancake recipe card from his robes pocket. Enough with making excuses for why they couldn’t be together. He liked her, and he still wanted to be with her -- even if that meant making some sacrifices.

As he had learned from the war heroine herself, some things were worth fighting for.

~*~*~

Draco rushed through the corridors, his letter to Hermione tightly gripped in his hand as he practically ran to the Great Hall. Today was not the morning for him to oversleep! Although, he did only have himself to blame. He had stayed up until nearly two in the morning, drafting, editing, and redrafting the perfect combination of words to write to her until he was finally satisfied with the results. He had intended to wake up with enough time to stop by the owlery before the start of the staff meeting so that he could get his letter out, but when he woke up all alone in his bed at a quarter ‘til, he barely had time to place a quick _Scourgify_ spell on himself and throw on a fresh set of robes before darting out the door so that he’d still make it to the meeting on time.

He only slowed his pace when he entered the Great Hall and saw that McGonagall wasn’t anywhere in sight. _Phew_. That had been a close one.

The rest of the faculty was standing around the room mingling with each other, but Draco had barely had the chance to look around before he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw McGonagall beside him.

“You were nearly late, Professor Malfoy,” she said sternly. “But I require a word with you before we begin.” This time, she didn’t even try to disguise her command as a suggestion. From her tone alone, it was obvious that whatever she had to say to him was important. 

Draco promptly followed her down the length of the Great Hall and was alarmed when she led him into the side room adjacent to the High Table. As he entered, he kept his head down, his mind reeling with the possibilities of what was so important that she had to speak with him in private. It wasn’t like he had done anything that could get himself fired before term even started! Unless news had somehow gotten out about his hiring and the reactions were even worse than they had anticipated. But that wasn’t possible! He hadn’t even told --

_Hermione._

Draco’s heart stopped. Or maybe it was beating so fast, he couldn’t even detect a heartbeat anymore. He shook his head to make sure he wasn’t imagining it again, but it had to be her. The distinct curl of her hair. The floral scent of her body wash. The complete obliviousness to everything else around her as she read the book held tight between her hands. There was only one witch like that, and she was currently standing right in front of him.

And yet, he still didn’t understand _what_ she was doing here.

McGonagall closed the door behind her, and Hermione finally looked up and saw him standing there, the same look of complete and utter bewilderment washing over her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Me?! I could ask you the same thing!”

“Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy,” McGonagall interrupted before either one of them could answer the other. “As you both are individually aware, I had made your hiring at Hogwarts this year secret so that there would be a low possibility of press involvement, but also because I did not want either of you to turn down the position because of the hiring of the other.”

Draco and Hermione’s eyes met. Did she just say _‘the hiring of the other?’_

“I require the best for my faculty and you two are both prime candidates for your positions, and therefore, I will not permit unresolved disagreements from years past to influence staffing decisions. Now, I expect the both of you to treat each other with the utmost respect and for the students to be none the wiser about your past relationship with one another. Do I make myself clear?”

Draco and Hermione continued to blankly stare at each other, both of them apparently having an equally difficult time processing what they had just been told.

“I also expect an answer when I ask a question,” the Headmistress not-so-gently pressed.

They both nodded.

“Good,” she resolved. “Then if that’s settled, we may now proceed with the staff meeting.”

McGonagall turned for the door, but Draco finally found his voice. “Do you mind if Hermi-- Miss Granger and I have a moment to -- _catch up_ \-- before we return to the staff? I believe she and I have a couple things to discuss.”

The Headmistress looked at Hermione for approval, and when she nodded her agreement, McGonagall submitted to his request. “You two have five minutes. And I expect the castle to still be standing by the end of that time!”

The door closed behind her, and both of them started rambling over each other, their thoughts flowing so fast, it sounded like two separate conversations overlapping.

“I thought you were working at St. Mungo’s!”

“What happened to taking a break now that you were back in England?”

“I quit three weeks ago when I got the job here.”

“I wasn’t exactly going to turn down an offer at a steady, reputable school.”

“I just assumed you’d never want to return to this place!”

“So that’s how you could take all that time off work? I knew that was suspicious!”

“Is that what you were doing in Hogsmeade that night?”

Draco cleared his throat after Hermione’s most recent question, the conversation converging to one topic. “Yes,” he finally admitted.

“And I take it you’re teaching Potions?”

“Naturally. And you’re the new matron, I presume?”

“ _Naturally_.”

“Good,” Draco said with the beginning traces of a smirk starting to creep up his lips. “Then perhaps you can help me out with something.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Did you somehow manage to fall deathly ill in the past twelve hours or so?”

“Not exactly,” he said, taking a step closer to her. “But you see, I did wake up with a bit of a broken heart, and I’m fairly certain you’re the only one who can fix it.”

Hermione folded her arms against her chest and glared at him. “You really expect me to fall for that?”

Draco chuckled. “Don’t lie to yourself. You and I both know we already fell for each other weeks ago.” She continued to simply glare at him, but he could already start to see the cracks in her facade developing. He took another step forward, closing the gap between them. “Admit it,” he near whispered as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face just so he had an excuse to touch her. “You already missed me.”

Hermione shot him another look, but this one was softer, and he knew he was right.

“Fine,” she eventually surrendered, dropping her hands to her side. She hung her head slightly as she shook it back it forth. “It absolutely gutted me to leave last night.”

Draco lifted her chin up with a curved finger so that he could stare right into her eyes, letting himself get swept away in them. “And it absolutely gutted me to watch you leave, which is why I wrote you this.” He dug into his robes pocket and retrieved the note he had written the night before.

She looked down at it curiously, but then slowly unrolled it and started to read.

_Hermione,_

_We’ve made a mistake. You can’t put a strict deadline on a relationship, just like how you can’t put a strict ingredient list on a recipe. Things change and adapt according to need and situation, so nothing can be set in stone._

_I never told you, and I have my reasons, but I’ll be back at Hogwarts this year as the Potions Master. If you’re willing to admit that we were wrong, the first Hogsmeade trip of the year will be the first weekend of October. What do you say to starting this all over again right where we began?_

_Draco_

_P.S. My secret ingredient is an extra teaspoon of baking powder._

Hermione lowered the note, and she didn’t have to say a single word for him to know that she was just as much his and he was hers.

He had a good feeling about this school year.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Please take a moment to let me know what you think! Every single one of your thoughts means the world to me :)


End file.
